


Ain't No Thang But Good Old Fashioned Pederasty

by asslalonde (rawrmynameisval)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bro tries to resist the shota, Child Abuse, Daddy Kink, Humanized Cal, Incest, M/M, Shota, Yes it Is, a little bit of daddy kink yep, he cannot, is it incest if they're adopted, more like shitty parenting really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 03:33:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rawrmynameisval/pseuds/asslalonde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave is lonely, so Bro, being #1 best brother of the year and shit decides to adopt another kid. Cal seems pretty cool at first but Bro quickly realizes he screwed himself over when he signed those adoption papers. Now he has to deal with a little shota-sized package of manipulation, mindfuckery, and seduction while trying to maintain his father-son relationship with Dave.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cute fluffy brotherly love just wait till people start dying

Your name is Dirk Strider, better known as 'Bro', and your kid is lonely.

He doesn't get along with the other kids in your apartment building, and won't even try to make friends anymore since some asshole fifth-grader shoved him off the swing and stole his pimpin' watch while he was still on the ground.

Dave fucking loved that watch. You'd given it to him last Christmas, since you didn't know what else to get him and didn't need the watch anyway. You used to ask him what time it was and he'd read it out to you all proud and like a fucking boss.

You called the principal after the incident and she called the suspected kid's parents, but they were no help at all. Got all offended and shit that their son was being accused of stealing instead of trying to get the watch back from him. Bull-fucking-shit.

You offered to buy Dave a replacement, hoping to mend his tiny broken heart, but he had decided that particular watch was the only one he wanted. Something about you having it before and passing it down to him had apparently made it extra special.

Anyway, he doesn't talk to other kids anymore. He doesn't trust anyone outside the family, but he's lonely as hell. You thought about getting him a pet or something, but your apartment doesn't allow pets, not even goldfish for some dumbshit reason. Fuck that, goldfish are little bitches anyway.

So you have a talk with Dave. You tell him you want him to be happy, and that he's gotta tell you what he wants more than anything. You make sure to mention that he can't ask for an x-box or a pony, 'cause life isn't about the material things. It's about people, Dave.

He didn't seem to have any clue of what you're talking about. To be honest, you aren't sure you know either. Especially since you meant all that to be serious as hell, but you said the whole thing to him sarcastically. Curse your infallible skill in irony.

But the talk seems to work, because a few days later Dave crawls into your bed and cuddles up against you and asks you for a little brother.

"But not too little, 'cause I can't play with a dumb baby, Bro."

You try not to laugh and inform him that he was a dumb baby once too. He just giggles and says he knows that, and paps you on the face.

"Can you get one for me?" he asks, closing his eyes.

"Get what--a brother?"

"Mhm," he hums sleepily.

You smile, knowing Dave can't see it. "We'll talk about it when you aren't ready to pass out, 'right, kiddo?"

Dave mumbles something about being totally awake, and then dozes off.

You hug him a little closer and press your nose into his thin blonde hair. He smells pretty good for a six year old, and you realize you can't be too bad of a guardian if you can at least keep a grubby little six year old clean. You wonder how many single parents give their kid a shower twice a day and make them wash their hands before and after every meal and every trip to the bathroom.

You mentally shrug, deciding there was nothing wrong with a kid who knows good hygiene, and close your eyes too.

You fall asleep to the rise and fall of Dave's small, breathing body.

 

A year later you find yourself driving home with two kids bouncing around in the back seat. Dave isn't talking a lot, but he's smiling so much you think his goofy little face might break, and the other kid, Cal--(Calvin, his full name, just sounds like the name of a massive douchebag)--is babbling about nothing significant and grinning just as wide.

Cal's actually a year or so older than Dave, but they clicked as soon as they met, and you made your decision on that. You silently high-five yourself for your great adopting skills. Dave lets out a laugh in response to some joke his new bro's made. It's a laugh you haven't heard in forever and you think your heart might explode from the intensity of the Kodak of this Kodak moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no one dies that was misleading


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warned you about the shota, bro.  
> I told you, dog.
> 
> I apologize, I prefer short chapters in fics so all my updates will be pretty short probably.

Cal gets attached to you. You're surprised at first, but you suppose he's your kid just as much as he's Dave's brother.  
  
He won't be enrolled in school until next fall since there are only a few weeks left of this year. But this just means Dave's out of the house, and Cal's not. No problem with that at all. The kid's chill as fuck and smart as hell, so he's plenty fun to have around. He never ceases to surprise you with his freaky weird observations like a lolita Sherlock Holmes or something, and the fact that he can surprise you drives you nuts. But then again, you're sure hearing an eight year old ask you if you're enjoying the porn bizz would catch anyone off-guard.  
  
You manage to dodge that one pretty well by asking if he'd enjoy a piece of that ice cream 'bizz' right across the street, to which he responds with a high-pitched 'fuck yeah!'  
  
You decide to have a talk with him about cursing later.

  
  
About two minutes into licking that cherry popsicle, Cal's squirming all over the park bench and sounds like he’s having trouble breathing.  
  
"You okay, dude?" you ask, hoping he's not secretly allergic to cherry or red dye or whatever the fuck they put in that shit.  
  
He nods, but he's distracted. "This always happens when I put something in my mouth."  
  
His words floor the fuck out of you. You can't help but surreptitiously glance at his crotch to make sure he isn't talking about what you think he's talking about. Oh. Except he is. Fuck.  
  
You feel like a total pervert.  
  
 _'This always happens when I put something in my mouth.'_  
  
Well, shit. Shit fucking hell whore dick. No, don’t think about dicks right now.  
  
Cal lets out a giggle, like he can read your mind.  
  
Your eight year old adoptee is a fucking perv too.

 

  
  
 **== > Skip ahead a few years.**  
  
Okay, so besides all the messed up flirty shit he does, you and Cal actually get along really well. You both have the same favorite color (orange--obviously), you bond over My Little Pony, and unlike Dave, he never gets tired of cheap Chinese food. You finding out he thinks puppets are the shit just pushes you over the edge of pure broship. The two of you act like teenagers together, even though he's only about 10 years old now, and you're pushing thirty.  
  
Okay, that sounds a little creepy put that way, but it’s totally not. At all. It’s a complicated friendship involving similar maturity levels, compatible interests, and seeing each other as equals and shit. Not weird or creepy in anyway. You swear.  
  
It doesn’t seem to bother Dave that Cal’s sort of become your best bro instead of his. He starts spending more time on his own, but hey, nothing wrong with that. Kids go through introverted phases all the time. During middle school you yourself were like an angry, old cat lady who never saw the light of day.  
  
Your kids are happy, you’re happy; everything is going great. You got the happiest goddamn family in Texas and you plan on keeping it that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you man.  
> I TOLD you about the shota.
> 
> I'm sorry, that was necessary.
> 
> So these first couple chapters are just setting up everything. Just fyi. It moves quickly after this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for hot shota on shota action  
> no jk nothing rly happens we all cool  
> (dubcon-y undertones tho just fyi)

**== > Bro: Be Dave**  
  
Your name is Dave Strider. You're nine and a quarter, and Cal's been your brother for about two years. He's pretty cool, even though he's kinda weird. Sometimes he talks about stuff you think only grown-ups should know, and you try not to listen but you can't really help it. You don't think Bro would want you guys talking about those kinds of things, especially without him, and that makes you feel a little guilty sometimes. But mostly just curious.  
  
He was being like, super weird last night. He kept you up late with a bunch of weird wet breathy noises and his tossing and turning. You told him to quit moving around, and that it was shaking the bed, but he just ignored you, and then got even louder before stopping altogether.  
  
Cal's watching you get dressed again. He does that a lot.  
  
You stall when it comes to taking your pajama bottoms off, hoping he'll look away and you'll have a quick private moment to pull your jeans on before he looks again. You don't want him to see what's going on in your underwear right now.  
  
Part of you wants to ask him what's going on with your penis, but you can't help but feel this is something to be embarrassed about. He doesn't look away, so you sorta turn your body and try and be as fast as you can. As soon as you kick off your shorts, he's got his chin on your shoulder and his hands on your wrists so you can't cover yourself up.  
  
"Looks like someone's got his first boner, Davie," he giggles.  
  
"What're you talkin' 'bout?" you grumble back, faint Texas accent bleeding through the words in your panic.  
  
He pushes your hands away and says he'll fix it for you. You feel your heart beating fast, but you don't completely understand why.  
  
Just as Cal is pulling your shirt up with one hand and sliding the other down to your 'boner', Bro bursts into the room.  
  
"Hey, broskis, hurry it up! You're gonna be late f--"  
  
Cal pulls away quickly, and you pull down your shirt just as fast. Your chubby kid cheeks are burning and your eyes are wide with embarrassment. You know you've done something wrong. You brace yourself for him to start yelling at you.  
  
He doesn't. Which makes it like a billion times worse.  
  
You can hardly look at him now because you can feel the tension building up in the room with every quiet second that passes.  
  
When Bro finally says something, his voice is low and stern.  
  
"Finish getting ready for school, Dave," he says to you through gritted teeth. He's not looking at you though. He's glaring at Cal through his shades. "Cal, meet me in the kitchen. I gotta talk to you."  
  
Cal isn't as terrified as you are. He pushes out his lower lip defiantly and stomps out the bedroom door, which Bro is holding open for him. Bro points him to the kitchen and as soon as the kid is out of sight, he kneels down next to you and gives you a hug.  
  
"You a'ight, little dude?" he asks softly, and it hits you suddenly that he isn't mad at you. He blames Cal for whatever he's upset about. You feel a twinge of guilt, knowing it was your fault anything ever happened in the first place. It was _your_ body that was acting up, Cal was just trying to help, right?  
  
But you don't tell Bro any of that. You let him hug you for as long as he will before repeating the question in case you didn’t hear. Eventually you nod and he pulls away.  
  
He stands, but doesn't leave, as if debating what to say. He glances out the door, as if making sure your brother is really where he's supposed to be.  
  
"Hey, listen," he says, voice almost normal, but a little too tender for your liking.  
  
You shift your weight uncomfortably. "Yeah, Bro?" you prompt him.  
  
“...If someone touches you in a way you don’t like, you tell them to fuck off, okay? And if they don’t listen, you kick ‘em in the balls. No matter who it is. If you don’t feel comfortable, you stand up for yourself. Don’t let anybody push you around. You’re too good for that, hear me?”  
  
You just stare up at him, thinking you maybe know what he's talking about, but not really. You nod again automatically. “‘Kay.”  
  
He chuckles and pulls a pair of jeans out of your dresser. He tosses them to you, and you catch them, staring down at your hands like they're the touchdown ball that won the baseball game. Or something. You don't really get sports.  
  
"Get dressed, bud. And then come in and get yourself some breakfast." He leaves you, raising his hands up to slap the top of the door frame on his way out.  
  
Your boner has gone down by now and you huff out a sigh of relief. You finish getting dressed, check your hair in the mirror like Bro always does, and follow after him into the kitchen.  
  
  
  
 **== > Dave: Be Bro**  
  
You’re Bro again and right now you’re going to tell this little shit off because you’re so fucking pissed you can barely see.  
  
“ _Cal_ ,” you start when you get in the kitchen. He’s glaring at his breakfast cereal. He knows how much trouble he’s in. Good. “Look, man, I don’t fucking care if you pull that shit with me, but if you touch Dave like that ever again I swear to God I will send you to boarding school or some shit. And don’t look at me like that because you know how easy I could do that.”  
  
Cal just nods reluctantly.  
  
“Answer me when I fucking speak to you.”  
  
“ _Okay!_ I’ll leave him alone.”  
  
Some of the tension melts from your shoulders. “Thank you.” Your voice is still harsh. You haven’t completely forgiven him yet.  
  
Dave shuffles in, hands in his pockets, shades balanced on the bridge of his nose. Look how cool he is. So cool. The top of his class when it comes to cool. And still but a babe. Perhaps one day he’ll surpass even _you_ in coolness.  
  
You laugh on the inside. Ha ha. Not gonna happen.  
  
You rush the kids through breakfast and pile them into your van and somehow manage to get them to the school just a minute before the late bell rings. Score one for Bro Strider; no tardy slips today.  
  
You return home to the daily toil of an empty, lonely, kidless apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next update will hopefully be next tuesday, if i manage to keep up with weekly updates! yay!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg i'm so sorry about the no update last week, i forgot tech week was a thing. but now i'm back, slightly sleep deprived and a little overstressed but totes enthusiastic and shit!  
> again, sorry for the long wait, and here's some porn in an attempt to make up for it.  
> note that this occurs right after the last chapter. no time skip this time.  
> thanks for reading <33

You’re sprawled out on the couch, bored as fuck. The TV’s on. Some shitty soap opera you can’t remember the name of.  
  
Wow, you hate being home alone. You understand how dogs feel now. This is why they’re practically peeing themselves when their owners finally get back.  
  
You would totally pee yourself right now if Cal or Dave showed up all of a sudden. With like a huge pepperoni pizza. And the porn parody of some movie you hate. Mm. Yes.  
  
 _“These are a few of my favorite things...”_ your inner Julie Andrews sings cheerily.  
  
Your hand absent-mindedly finds your jeans button and pops it open with a flick of your fingers.  
  
You’ve been having a strange mixture of nightmares and wet dreams lately.  
  
You rub yourself through your underwear.  
  
Cal’s been in every single one. And Dave a few times. But he’s never been in any of the sexy ones. Which suppose should relieve you. But you’re too busy being slightly disturbed by the amount of dream sex you’ve been having with your adopted son to feel any sort of relief. Gross. Son is such a gross word.  
  
Okay. Cal, like, totally doesn’t count as your son. Not the way Dave would. If he did count. He doesn’t though, because he’s your bro. And Cal. Well, Cal is Cal.  
  
Sons are gross. You refuse to have any sons for the rest of your life. You’d rather just have a bunch cool dudes chillin’ around the house during the holidays. Wearing matching Christmas sweaters. Deadpan expressions and bitingly sarcastic tones. Yeah. That’s a party.  
  
You’re done fucking around now, and you lift your ass off the couch to yank off the rest of the clothing separating you from your dick.  
  
You don’t spend much time planning out a proper fantasy. You let the sexy images flow freely through your mind.  
  
Only a couple minutes in and you have to stop yourself. Your imagination’s gravitated from the hentai you watched the other day to pale, young limbs and Venetian blondes. The pink lips that envelop the head of your cock are suddenly so vivid you have to open your eyes to remind yourself it’s not real.  
  
You sit up breathlessly, the image of your adopted brother sucking your dick burned into your retinas.  
  
You change positions, like you do when you jerk awake at three in the morning in an attempt to make a nightmare fade. You shut your eyes again, almost defiantly, but those impish blue eyes still stare back at you from between your legs. You try again to shift away from the image but it quickly becomes evident you’ve lost control over your own fantasy. You’re terrified and, at the same time, oh so turned on.  
  
Cal’s tongue feels like heaven and you can’t help but nudge the back of his head toward you encouragingly. The room around you has grown cold and dark. The sweat on the back of your neck cools and sends chills down your spine. The heat from your groin is too distracting to try and make any sense of what’s happening. You’re disoriented and all you know for sure is that you’re close. So close. Your hips push against the blinding pleasure. Your head lolls back as you open your mouth to let out a groan—  
  
Reality is set back in place as you come down from your high. Cal’s mouth and hands are gone, and you’re sitting once again in the cluttered living room of your modest penthouse apartment. Alone. Cum smeared over your legs.  
  
You figure you’d better clean up before it fucks up the futon. Wouldn’t want to have to explain to Cal (no doubt he’d notice) why there are new stains in the place you normally sit.  
  
Your knees buckle when you try to stand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more short chapters ugh i've had a lot of writers block lately. more sleep should help...  
> update next tuesday!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooo i missed tuesday but here's a thursday almost midnight update?  
> this is p weird  
> i'd give you a warning but that'd spoil the whole thing.  
> read at your own discretion or something idk  
> but yeah so obvi from last chapter cal affects bro's dreams and shit so here's another example of that.  
> it's referencing cal's canon powers.  
> cal's scary as fuck man.  
> scary.  
> as.  
> fuck.

You’re young again, but you’re in your own apartment. ‘Young’ as in Dave’s age.

It’s just a dream. You don’t know it’s a dream at the time. But later when you wake up, in a cold sweat, you realize.

You’re playing with the smuppets lying around you. Bright orange and red and green. They smile back at you with their funny, perverted little faces. You boop their phallic noses and hold them up so that they stand on their hind legs. You make them walk and give them voices.

Even a child can be a puppet-master. All you have to do is pull the right strings.

A hand touches yours. You look up, and you realize your shades are missing. Which makes you naked and vulnerable. Cal smiles sweetly and kisses your mouth.

You’re small, and he’s small, and that makes it just a little more okay. Not completely okay, though. Guilt still pounds away at your stomach.

You smile back, wishing for something to shield your eyes.

“We’re soul mates, you know,” he whispers, and his lips brush over your temple. Lips that you’ve become familiar with over the past few months of strange and terribly vivid dreams. “Meant to be. Forever. In any world. In any dimension.”

You huff out curt laughter. _That was terrible,_ you think. _Come on, you can do better than that._

He frowns and twitches. “I’m being honest. I’m not trying to seduce you with lame-ass poetry.”

His hand moves to your crotch. Your ten year old dream dick is way smaller. You feel a little embarrassed. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“Do you like me?”

_What?_ You laugh nervously. The voice in your head is old but your body’s still young. _Of course I like you._ You know that’s not what he means. _You’re my kid._

He twitches again when you say kid. It’s not really a twitch. It’s more like his image is glitching. Like he’s a fuck-up in your head. He’s definitely fucked up your head.

“No, no, no. Do you like me?” he asks again, agitated.

You don’t answer.

“Look at me, Dirk. Look at me and answer my question.”

You feel vulnerable again. He’s not in front of you anymore. He’s on top of you. And he knows your name. You wish you had your shades.

“I love you, Cal.” The words aren’t yours but they slip from your lips. You hear them echo in the dark room.

He grins. The grin is childish. It reminds you how young he is. Eleven? Twelve? You don’t remember the exact age at the moment. You just know he’s young. But you’re young too, aren’t you?

He lets you get lost in thought as he moves down between your legs. You think he’s going to blow you again, and your dick hardens at the memory of last time.

He kisses your stomach and you realize how soft your skin is. Untanned, scarless. The toughness you spent so long building up is gone. This body is unfamiliar to you. You don’t recognize it as your own. It’s been too long.

He licks his fingers and you jerk away instinctively when he touches you.

“Hey—”

He stares back, blankly. Innocent.

“Don’t—I’m not—“

He smiles. “No, of course not.” And he continues.

When you struggle, he holds you down. It starts feeling good eventually.

When he thinks you’re ready, he fucks you. You feel guilty for liking it. This is unnatural. This isn’t how things are supposed to be. But he’s young, and you’re young, and that makes it just a little more okay.

Your mind feels young, but it’s old. Regression. Your old mind can’t comprehend what’s happening. Being young is supposed to protect you. But it just makes your mind go blank and you lie there like a doll.

You’re a doll and he’s pulling the strings.

You want to wake up. This dream is too disorienting. Lights flash to the rhythm he fucks you with.

And then you’re not in your body anymore. You’re a spirit, hovering above the gasps and moans. You squint, and the scene of Cal pounding your ten year old self comes into focus.

The sight hits you like a solid punch in the diaphragm. That’s not you. That’s not even young you.

You watch in horror as Cal lets out a sigh and cums inside your baby brother.

The nightmare fades as you force your eyes open. You feel nauseous, disturbed, and violated. You sit up and grab your shades from the bedside table. A small comfort.

You can’t help yourself, you have to check. Just in case.

No, that’s ridiculous. It was just a dream. You’re being a fucking pussy. Self-loathing tastes like bile in your throat.

You open the door to Dave and Cal’s room. Maybe you should get a place with another bedroom, so they don’t have to share anymore. Or at least separate beds.

They’re both asleep. Dave’s breathing audibly, but softly. Cal’s quiet. He has an arm around Dave’s waist, head pressed against Dave’s shoulder. That’s enough to make your heart drop. You’ll have to get them separate beds...

You frown at your own thought. You feel guilty for a stupid dream like that shaking the trust you have in your kid. You’re terrible. Worst parent of the year.

You close the door quietly and rub your forehead in agitation. You don’t want to go back to sleep.

You glance at a clock. It’s four in the morning.

You put on your pants and your jacket and get in your car. You’ll find a Taco Bell or something. Anything to waste time. You’ll hold out until dawn, and then you’ll drive your kiddies to school.

Happiest goddamn family in Texas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hAHhhaha aha fuck here we go  
> you can take bro's protestation however you want but i'll give you a hint: he's not saying he's not gay bc that would be ridiculous.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to my wonderful beta, sandpapersnowman (which her her tumblr too btw). ur da best bb.  
> also! happy! valentines day!!!  
> this chapter's p clean. just kind of domestic and fluffy. as always, enjoy.

“What do you want for your birthday?” you ask, flopping down on the couch next to Cal. Dave’s in bed already. They used to go to bed at the same time, but Cal’s a middle schooler now, and he threw a preteen-sized fit about still having a ten o'clock bedtime. You pretty much had to give him an extra hour to appease him.  
  
“Mm?” He wasn’t listening. You take the remote from him and turn off the TV. He breaks his eyes away from the screen, ready to protest.  
  
“Birthday,” you interrupt sternly.  
  
“Oh,” he says, looking away again. “Makeup.”  
  
“Makeup?”  
  
There’s an awkward pause.  
  
“You know. For your face.”  
  
“I know what makeup is, you shit.”  
  
Cal gives you a patronizing smile, like he’s tired with dealing with your antics.  
  
You’re curious—that’s all really—but you don’t want him to think you don’t approve. So you don’t ask.  
  
“You gonna turn the TV back on?” he asks, and you know that conversation is over.  
  
“What were you watching?”  
  
He sighs. “I don’t even know. I’m just bored as fuck.”  
  
You nod and turn it on.  
  
It’s a game show. Some lady’s won something and she’s screaming and jumping and shit and everyone’s clapping.  
  
“Most of these are staged,” you comment.  
  
Cal just shrugs.  
  
It hits the commercial break and just as the nasally voice of a white southern woman comes on to explain to you two how much you need this cheese grater, you mute it.  
  
“We could just talk,” you suggest. You really did mean that casually, but as soon as you say it you know he’s taken it the wrong way.  
  
He turns to face you, smile playing on his face like a flame. “Talk away, _Dirk_.”  
  
You give him a look. “Don’t do that.”  
  
“Do what?”  
  
“Call me by my name. It’s, like. Weird, man.”  
  
“Weird how, Dirk-a-boo?”  
  
“I don’t know, I don’t like it. People don’t call me Dirk. I’m Bro, okay? Just go with it.”  
  
“Maybe I should just call you 'daddy',” he hints coyly, like he’s making some reference to an inside joke you’ve forgotten.  
  
You don’t bother to give him a response. You figure it was rhetorical anyway. “So. Makeup, huh?” Karma.  
  
“Uh, yep.”  
  
“What for?”  
  
He gives you a look, like he can’t believe someone could be as stupid as you’re being right now. “My _face_? _Duh_.”  
  
“Alright, piss off. You could just say you don’t want to talk about it. Geez.”  
  
“I do what I want.”  
  
“You do what you want, within limits I’ve set for you as your guardian.”  
  
“Hah, yeah sure. We both know _you_ do what _you_ want, within limits _I’ve_ set for you. That is the sort of relationship we have, my dear.”  
  
“Right, the good old fashioned _father-son_ relationship.”  
  
He lets that hang in the air before speaking again.  
  
“You know, in ancient Greece, there was this tradition where as a right of passage a boy would chill out with an older dude who was supposed to teach him everything he needed to know.”  
  
You don’t say anything.  
  
“They’d go hunting and drinking and party and shit, and he’d have a wild, crazy sex affair with this kid until he finally got engaged and married off to a chick.”  
  
You look at him. “That is so not a thing.”  
  
“No, it is.”  
  
“No way that’s a thing. You’re definitely making shit up.” To fuck with me.  
  
“I’m serious. Pederasty. Look it up. The relationship of a young man and an older male, and he’s like his gay uncle sex mentor or something.”  
  
“Nah, man.”  
  
“Greeks knew how to party.”  
  
You shake your head. "Pederasty,” you repeat incredulously.  
  
“Pederasty," he nods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope this chapter warmed your heart and made you forget for a moment that, like me, you are probably single. <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess whos back  
> back again  
> shadys back  
> with another dose of shota for you perverts  
> uhhh warning for this chapter: bros a shit parent to dave and kind of abusive in the neglectful and verbal and wow i guess in the physical way too (in their strifes tho so its kinda expected?) so if thats triggering to you you may not want to continue reading because it just gets worse sorry ill put it in the main tags  
> <33

You know what he wants from you now, but you play dumb, just in case.

On the other hand, you have no idea what kind of make-up he wants so you order one of those huge fucking make-up kits from amazon and wrap it up in shitty Christmas wrapping paper for him.

He looks up at you when you drop it in his lap, a look almost a little challenging. You stand up straight, one hand in your pocket, and nod to the package. He unwraps it slowly, just to get on your nerves--he knows what little patience you have, something Dave hasn’t quite picked up on yet.

He peeks inside the box and you feel your heart melt when he grins. You can’t look at that face and not smile. So you just look away.

“You can have my room too, if you want. I mean, I sleep out here usually anyway, so it’s all yours.” Yeah, them sleeping in the same room is still bugging you. But hey, they’re quick-growing motherfuckers too. They need space.

Cal just nods. He’s still eating shit with that smile of his.

You mumble a pointless affirmation and leave the room. You head for roof, with a quick detour to Dave’s room. You flick him in the head and flashstep away without a word. He’ll get the message.

You started training him when he turned ten. You might have done the same with Cal, but he made it clear very early on how much he hates strifing. Would rather just sit on the sidelines and watch. But you know it’s just ‘cause he’s a sore loser.

It’s something to do anyway. And you like the way Dave gets all flustered when you pay attention to him. He’s always so goddamn eager to chill with you, even if it means getting his ass handed to him. Shit’s ridiculous. And he even tries to hide all that excitement behind his shades.

That’s another thing Cal won’t do. Wear the shades you gave him. He thinks they’re stupid. Says he likes to see your eyes.

You try not to think too much about that last part.

Dave needs the exercise. He spends way too much time on his laptop nowadays. He’s so fucking scrawny and pale. You feel ashamed to be related to him.

You tell him that too. He needs to toughen up. Way too sensitive. No sense of balance. Last time you guys strifed, you beat his ass so bad he started crying. Like, right in front of you. It hurt your pride a little. Or was that guilt? Anyway, you told him to suck it up and made him go for a bonus round as punishment.

Sometimes Cal watches. Sometimes he doesn’t. He laughs at Dave alongside you. It feels nice. Family bonding.

The winner gets to shower first. You have no problem with using up all the hot water. It pisses him off but he knows that’s what he deserves for being a loser. When he’s mad he gets this little wrinkle between his eyebrows. Such an obvious tell. You don’t think he even realizes he does it.

Cal is a lot harder to read. He could want to tear your guts out and still smile at you sweetly. You prefer the poker face and monotone approach to hiding external emotion. Looking sweet isn’t really your deal. Works on Cal just fine though.

You can appreciate the differences between you too. It reminds you you aren’t related. Which makes the fact that he gives you a boner so much less awkward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surpriiiiiise im gonna update tomorrow too oh shiiiiiit yesss


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> double updaaaate fuck yeah

You’ve managed to live with Cal for almost six years without his freaky oedipus complex getting to you. Well. Not _too_ bad anyway. You’ve kept your hands off, and that’s good enough for you. Go you. You get a cookie. You know, for not fucking your kid already.

Sometimes you stare at the ceiling thinking about how goddamn pathetic you are. And then you remember you’re awesome and get over it. Fuck emotions. They suck balls.

The crazy dreams have slowed down a hella lot. You only get them if you get really drunk, which is kind of weird. Some sort of inhibitions thing or something? You let your hair down a little and your creepy as shit subconscious comes out to play? Fuck it, it’s disturbing as hell. It just keeps you from drinking most of the time. Which by most people’s definitions is “good”. Whatever. You miss getting shitfaced.

You know what else you miss? Sleeping with people. You don’t do that anymore. Whether it’s Cal’s presence or just being a fucking dad that stops you, you’re not quite sure. It could be both. When it was just Dave, it didn’t bother you for him to know you were bringing home ladies. Or guys. But that might just been because he was too young to say “broccoli” properly.

You’re getting tired of this self-assessment. You slap a “perfect” onto that mental motherfucker and flashstep into the kitchen to get a soda.

Dave is having trouble with long division again and you take a glance at it before realizing you have no idea what that fucking goddamn is. You push it back at him, embarrassed, and tell him it’s easy, and that he can figure it out on his own, and walk away to see what Cal’s doing. 

He’s not in the living room/kitchen, or his new room so you figure he must have gone out. He does that sometimes. Just disappears without telling you. He never stays out too long though so you’ve gotten used to it.

You stop and lean against the wall as a wicked pain slices through your temples. Another headache. Just what you need. Geez.

You turn around and head back to the bathroom to grab some aspirin.

You knock on the door and no one answers. Your kids usually lock the door anyway, so you figure it's empty.

It's not. 

Cal's naked from the waist down, straddling the edge of the bathtub. He's got two fingers hanging out of his mouth, covered in spit. He's panting hard and jerking off with his other hand.

You freeze when he looks up at you. He doesn't stop. He doesn’t even slow down.

" _Ah!_ \--H-hi, Daddy," he gasps, somehow managing his singsong voice through his breathlessness.

Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope--

You shut the door and dash into your room. Shit shit holy fuck. Nope, not gonna get off to that image. Totally not gonna jerk off to the thought of your own kid jerking off.

" _’Daddy’?!_ " you cry aloud incredulously. "Jesus shitting Christ..."

Though you don't want to admit it, you've got an uncomfortable boner. You lean against the wall and press your hand between your legs--not masturbating, totally not masturbating, just trying to will it away. You just wanna relieve the pressure a bit so it's easier to ignore. You close your eyes, thinking about anything but Cal.

There's a knock on your door.

"Bro?" Cal calls, and you silently flip your shit. "You can use the bathroom now. I'm done in there."

You don't respond, not trusting yourself with words. After a few moments, you hear him walk away. You realize you've been biting the hand that isn't rubbing against your crotch. You clasp your hands together, and place them behind your head. You let out a sigh of relief.

Oh, you're fucked. You're so fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> of course this one is short as hell what were you expecting from a double update asshole


End file.
